Injustice
by SaoirseParisa
Summary: Nina, Flowerbud Village's friendly florist, is dead. Her mother murdered her in cold blood. The village mourns the loss, but there is still one question that needed an answer: Why? Why did Liz kill her own daughter? The answer may be too chilling for anyone to fathom. Contains murder and filicide.


**A/N** : Seeing as April is Autism Awareness/Acceptance Month, I decided to write this in memory of all the autistic people, kids and adults included, who lost their lives, whether through murder, accidents, etc. Especially those who were wrongly killed by their caregivers, parents, relatives, police, or anyone else. No child deserves to be killed for any reason, especially over things that aren't their fault, like being autistic, and there is no justification for murder. NONE. Hell, no one should even be praised for killing their child at all, for any reason.

Yes, I know Liz is very OOC here. I haven't played Magical Melody (Though I do plan to if I ever buy the game), though from what I hear, the characters are pretty dull and have little personality anyway. This fan fic is just an idea I wanted to explore and put on paper. Don't worry, I'll write happier, fluffier stories after this to make up for it.

Also, in case anyone asks, this is NOT my entry for Accidentally The Whole Fanfic's First Harvest prompt event. My entry for that will be much happier and lighter.

* * *

 _ **Injustice**_

Liz Bloom was all alone in a dimly lit interrogation room, with no company at all. The walls were dreary and gray, with no light or life to them at all. Her hands sat on the metal table, the surface cold as ice. Her cotton candy pink hair tumbled all about her face, unkempt and disheveled. Not even her light green hair ribbon could keep it all in place. Her yellow apron, maroon blouse, and checkered, ankle-length skirt were the only bouts of color that gave the room any source of life, and even that wasn't much. There was no sound. Liz's nose and mouth didn't make any breathing noises. Her eyes and mouth were closed shut, like she didn't dare open them.

The door creaked open, letting out a long, drawn out squeak. Liz didn't open her eyes, even as she realized she was no longer the solitary occupant of this room. She could hear the legs of the chair screeching against the floor.

"Hello, Mrs. Bloom," The deep, rich voice of a man greeted her, but the greeting was devoid of warmth. "I'm Detective Gottfried."

"I know who you are," Finally, Liz spoke. Like Detective Gottfried, her voice also didn't have any traces of warmth or emotion in them. "You're the one who arrested me, along with those officers."

Detective Gottfried set his elbows on the table, taking his hands and perching his chin on top of them. His blue eyes sized the innocent looking woman up. In all of his years of investigating crime, criminals, and putting people behind bars, he sure didn't expect a woman like this to be a criminal. Pink hair, rosy cheeks, known for being kind and gentle, always laughing or smiling according to friends and family...none of this made any sense at all. Finally, Liz took her hands off the table, setting them down on her apron.

"I'm sure you know why you're here, Mrs. Bloom," Detective Gottfried told her. Liz didn't flinch. Not even her eye muscles moved. "Care to tell me why you did what you did?"

"You already know why," Liz hissed. "It's all over the papers. Or can't you read?"

Finally, she opened her eyes, getting a better look at the detective. A dark skinned man with black hair and a thick beard, wearing a navy blue coat over a grey shirt and black pants. His leather shoes reflected the fluorescent lights shining above them. She could see his stoic visage. He looked more curious and interested than offended, even though she just insulted him.

"Oh, I know the press is all over this," Detective Gottfried replied without missing a beat. His voice was serious and hard as stone, leaving no room for empathy or kindness. "But I want to hear it from you. You know what happened better than anyone else."

Good point. Liz shrugged, like she heard a terrible joke.

"Yeah. I killed my daughter. I killed Nina," She finally confessed, pushing the words out like they were poison. "So what?"

Normally, it wasn't easy to pull confessions out of criminals. But for the faintest moment, Detective Gottfried's eyes shrunk. Liz confessed to a horrible crime, but her voice was low. Distant. Uninterested. Completely nonchalant, like she told him that she wanted a soda from the vending machine. A sharp chill went right down his spine, even more so hearing this confession from a woman who, by all accounts, looked so nice, sweet, and innocent that there was no way she could have done what she said she did. She didn't look like she was even capable of such a thing. But there was no denying it.

"Why did you kill her?"

There was a pause. Silence. Then Liz spoke, with a voice full of venom.

"She ruined my life. She was going to continue ruining it if she kept on breathing."

* * *

When Nina was born, she appeared to be a perfectly normal baby. Clouds of bright pink hair, lively green eyes, a gurgly, hearty laugh, all of her fingers and toes intact...everything about her was perfect in her parents' eyes. They showered her with all the love they could give her. However, in her early toddlerhood, Liz began noticing that something about Nina was different from other babies. When she met with the other wives in town, their babies loved being held. Nina didn't. Nina would cry and howl and even try to wriggle out of her mother's arms if she held her. She wasn't talking when she was supposed to. She wasn't crawling when she was supposed to. She refused to wear certain clothes, especially anything made out of wool. She would always eat the same thing-usually carrots and vanilla pudding-and nothing else.

"Ugh! Why the hell is this happening?!" Liz bellowed one night, after yet another failed attempt to force baby Nina to wear the new baby clothes she bought her. Nina laid down in her crib, wearing nothing but a diaper, her cries echoing throughout the room. "Why is she like this?!"

She couldn't understand. Nothing made sense. No matter what she did, Nina wouldn't cooperate at all.

Finally, her husband suggested that they take Nina to a doctor. At first, Liz opposed it. "She's not sick. She's just being a brat, that's all," She told him. "You're too lenient on her, Joseph! You always let her do what she wants! You don't even make her wear the baby clothes I get her!"

"Liz, come on. Let's be reasonable here," Joseph said. "I'm sure there's a reason for why Nina's like this, and it's our job as parents to understand our children. We can't just dismiss this as her being difficult," He reasoned. But he could see plain as day that Liz wasn't having any of it. She crossed her arms and turned away, no longer facing him. "There's probably more to it than we're seeing."

"Fine," Liz groaned. "We'll take her to a doctor," She walked over to the phone. "I'll set up the appointment. Don't come crying to me if he doesn't tell you what you want to hear!"

As far as Liz was concerned, the whole thing seemed overblown. Why would her husband suggest that Nina be evaluated by a doctor? Nina was probably just a very fussy baby. Too fussy for her own good, but surely she'd grow out of it. Liz figured Nina needed more discipline. Joseph was never one to raise his voice or even try to grow a backbone. Then again, neither of them had ever had experience with raising children.

They did take Nina to the doctor. But neither of them expected to hear what the doctor had told them.

"Mr. and Mrs. Bloom? After conducting some tests, we can confirm for certain that Nina is autistic," The doctor told them.

Autistic?

"What does that mean?" Joseph had asked.

"Is that some fancy way of saying she's…" Liz couldn't bear to push the word out. But she did. "Retarded?" She barely noticed Joseph's shocked face as he whipped his head to face her. They just learned that their daughter has issues, and that was the first thing she dared to ask?

"Oh no no no," The doctor waved his hand back and forth. "Nothing like that at all. Autism is a neurological disorder in which the brain isn't wired like everyone else's."

The doctor went on to explain that Autism wasn't something that can easily be explained in one neat little sentence. Most, if not all of their senses are either heightened or dulled, so autistic people have different sensory experiences. Some may not like the taste of tomatoes, or the feel and texture of wool clothing. Some are able to adapt, and some don't. Autistic people love and value routine, consistency, and order, and get anxious easily when things happen unexpectedly or without proper warning, especially if they're not prepared for it. Oftentimes, it's difficult for them to understand and express typical social interaction and reading social cues, an example being not immediately saying hi when another person says hi. They often do things others may perceive as odd or strange, such as flap their hands, rock back and forth, or partake in other bodily movements, and there's always a reason for it. Maybe one autistic child flaps their hands when they're happy, or another one does it to calm themselves down. Some autistic people are more severely affected than others. Some of them don't talk or are unable to live on their own without support, but even the most severely affected can have happy, fulfilling lives.

"I see…" Joseph kept scratching his beard throughout the whole explanation. "So they grow at a different rate than usual, and they understand things in their own way."

"Yes," The doctor nodded, smiling. "Now, don't fret. Autism isn't a disease or a problem, and don't think it's a death sentence, either. Every child can grow, learn, and develop in their own way, and it's better to help them understand and navigate the world in ways that make sense to them, rather than try to force them to meet unreasonable expectations. Many autistic people have gone on to live fulfilling, independent lives."

Liz heard every word she said. But all she did was watch her little baby daughter line up some colorful blocks. Bright, plastic blocks. Red, orange, yellow, green, blue, indigo, purple, pink...Nina kept on giggling as she lined the blocks up. A high pitched, happy, hiccup-y little laugh. But Liz wasn't laughing at all.

"Is there…" Liz asked. "Is there a cure?"

The doctor shook his head. "No. There isn't. But that's no reason to be scared," He reassured. "Autistic people have trouble understanding the world around them, but that doesn't mean they're not capable of doing so. As parents, I'm sure you have lots of questions and worries. I have an autistic child myself, so I've been in your shoes. But the best way to raise an autistic child is to love them, accept them for who they are, understand them, accommodate their needs, and embrace them as people. You said Nina doesn't like wearing wool clothing, right? It may be a sensory thing. She might not like how the texture feels on her skin. Or maybe it feels scratchy and makes her itch."

Eventually, the doctor's voice became nothing but white noise. All she could see was the doctor's mouth moving up and down, flapping with no words coming out. Joseph sat next to her, pulling out a notebook and writing down paragraphs upon paragraphs of words that she couldn't read at that moment. Nina moved on from the blocks, holding a wooden duck with wheels in her hand and spinning the wheels. Liz couldn't understand. Why was Nina doing that? Why was she spinning the wheels? That wasn't the right way to play with that wooden duck. Not in Liz's mind.

Autism. Autistic. Nina. Those couldn't go together. Not to Liz.

* * *

"So, to put it bluntly," Detective Gottfried began once Liz finished telling him about her daughter's diagnosis. "You hated the fact that she was autistic. Right? You were convinced it meant she was mentally challenged, that she would never live a normal life?"

Liz said nothing at first. Another pause. One of the fluorescent lights began to blink a few times. Then she spoke once more. "I heard the stories. Autistic kids throwing tantrums every minute of every day, banging their heads against the walls, throwing stuff, breaking things, even in public. Even in grocery stores where everyone would watch and gawk at them. Driving everyone crazy with their non-stop screaming, whining, and crying. They don't have empathy, either. That's not the kind of life I pictured myself living, and not one that I'd ever want to live," Her voice was cold. Completely devoid of any love or empathy.

The more Detective Gottfried heard, the darker the picture became. "You thought she'd be a burden on you?"

"Thought she'd be?" All of a sudden, Liz's green eyes were hot with rage. Her voice went up an octave. Detective Gottfried thought she was going to stand up with how sudden she was overcome with anger. She didn't. She just continued to sit as her mouth began spewing angry, flaming word vomit. " _Thought_ she'd be?! She _wa_ s a burden! All the time we could have spent just being at home, living a normal life like a regular family and doing normal things, we had to go to all these facilities three times every week! All these evaluations, all these studies, all these so-called therapies over stuff that was just plain stupid...do you have any idea how humiliating it is to watch your daughter scream like a harpy over not having a certain brand of yogurt?!"

Detective Gottfried said nothing. This was the first genuine display of emotion she had ever shown to him. Or to anyone after her arrest. Still, his stoic expression and demeanor didn't change.

"There were times when I couldn't stand to even look at her!" Liz exclaimed, slamming her hand onto her chest. "She took away my dream of a happy life! I could have made something of myself! I could have had the perfect life! I could have participated in all the flower shows in Gardenia and become the Garden Queen! I could have become a famous actress or a garden designer or a landscaper! Joseph and I could have been successful and lived the good life! But nooooo!" She whined like she was a teenager who was grounded and not allowed to wear fancy dresses or glittery lip gloss. "Every day, that girl did nothing but scream and scream and scream and be a little brat over nothing at all!"

A dark look came over Detective Gottfried. "Your sister-in-law Eloise said that you often beat Nina, even when there was no reason to. Is that true?"

Finally, Liz fell silent. To Detective Gottfried, her silence told her all he needed to know.

* * *

Nina was two years old when this happened. Nina was sprawled on the floor as Liz, face beet red from frustration, tried yet again to force the crying girl to wear a new set of pajamas she bought. "Come on, Nina! Put these on! It's minus ten degrees already!" Liz wrapped one hand around the toddler's arm in an attempt to restrain her. She barely managed to get her arm through the sleeve before a tiny leg kicked her in the chin. The woolly pajamas fluttered to the floor.

It was then that Joseph came running into the room. He kneeled down to Liz's level and put a hand on her shoulder. "Liz, don't. You can't force it. She doesn't like wool clothes. Forcing her to wear that must be like torture for her. You have to consider her feelings as well," Joseph told her, his voice low and small, but calm.

Liz wasn't having any of it. "No! I'm doing this!" She hissed. "I'm her mother, and Nina's going to have to stop being a little brat and deal with it whether she likes it or not!" She swiped the pajamas from the floor and tried yet again to force them on her. "Nina! You are going to wear these and be warm!"

All of Joseph's protests fell on deaf ears. Nina continued to cry and howl, adamant in her refusal to wear any wool pajamas. Any understanding parent would have left the issue alone, seeing that forcing an autistic child to endure sensory torture wouldn't solve anything. Joseph knew this. On the other hand, Liz could feel her face burning. Soon, she was seeing red. Why wouldn't Nina just shut up already? God, that screeching noise was getting on every nerve in her body.

"Rrrrrgh!" Liz growled, yanking Nina up by the arm. A stone hard hand struck the still crying baby right across the face. Two more blows followed right afterward. Joseph's eyes shrunk in horror. "You stupid little brat! Why won't you shut up?! I can't stand this!"

Obviously, slapping the child three times only made things worse. Thankfully, Joseph scooped the girl into his protective arms, glaring at his wife. "Liz! You shouldn't have done that!"

Any father would be horrified at seeing their child be hurt, by their own mother, no less. Liz said nothing in her defense. Her silence gave Joseph the chance to take care of her by himself. With Nina in his arms, Joseph went into his room. Eventually, the crying stopped, but Liz remained on the living room floor, with no energy to move. The only thought in her head was this: It felt great to see those red marks on those fat little cheeks. Damn that girl. Damn that brainless retard.

Not long after, Joseph approached her with a very unexpected announcement.

"Liz. I'm filing for divorce."

Liz had been carrying a vase of flowers. The minute she heard it, the vase slipped out of her hands, shattering on their wooden floor. Delicate rose petals fell off of the bloom, scattering all about, soaked with fresh water that would only quicken the wilting process, now that they were no longer on the roses. Her green eyes were wide with horror.

"What? Tell me you're joking."

Joseph shook his head grimly. "No. I'm not," He stared daggers at her, his gaze determined and unyielding. "I can't stand this any longer. I can't stand seeing you treat Nina...your daughter...our daughter...like she's some kind of burden! Do you even love her?"

"I don't love her behavior!" Liz argued. "She constantly throws tantrums and acts like the world has to revolve around her!"

"You know that's not how Autism works."

"Stop using that as an excuse, Joseph! Nina's never gonna survive in this world if she can't be normal for two seconds! You keep catering to her every whim!"

"No, Liz," Joseph's voice was calm, but in it raged a blaze of fury that he didn't dare let loose. "Stop this. Why are you so concerned about appearances and making Nina normal? Nina's fine the way she is! She's our daughter, and we should love her, no matter what! Why can't you see all the good she's given us?"

Unlike his wife, Joseph always tried to find the good in everything. She had seen it with her own eyes. Joseph carefully bouncing Nina on her lap, taking care not to touch her and keep her from falling at the same time. Joseph and Nina laying on the floor together, lining up toys, blocks, plastic animals, anything she could line up. Joseph laughing happily as Nina would gallop around the house, pretending she was a horse. Joseph telling Nina all the different kinds of flowers whenever she would take one into her hand and examine it closely. Nina babbling words Liz didn't understand, and Joseph taking time to figure out what they meant. Liz couldn't understand. Nothing made sense.

"Oh, you think letting her gallop and make horse noises all the time is good?! You think letting her dress like a pretty little porcelain doll is good?! You think letting her rock back and forth and freak out over flowers being out of place is good?!"

"It's not like she's hurting anyone!" Joseph knew he had hit a stone wall. Liz wasn't relenting one bit. Still, he had to do something. He couldn't bear to listen to this any longer.

"Have you seen the way people look at us?!" Liz finally yelled, slamming her fist on the wooden table. She didn't care if a splinter poked through her skin. She barely even felt it. "I've had people tell me that she's a brat and that I don't discipline her correctly!"

"That's their opinion. It's not good to care so much about what other people think. If they don't understand, they're not worth it."

The woman ran her hands through her disheveled pink hair. "God, you're so freaking naive! Don't you see what she's done to us?! It's her fault we can't even go outside without people looking at us like we have lobsters coming out of our ears! We don't have any peace, inside or outside the house! All you do is coddle her and let her have her way!"

She could see Joseph balling one of his fists. His lips quivered, even though they were pressed together. It hurt to hear all of this, and from his wife, the last person he ever expected to hear this from. It hurt like hell. But he was sure Nina would especially be hurt the most. She was still so young. Who's to say she won't overhear the conversation and understand everything Liz was saying about her? Joseph didn't want Nina to grow up with low self-esteem. Her own mother of all people shouldn't say those things about her. Nina deserved better than this. Still, he kept his gaze on his wife.

"I'm sorry, Liz. I'm sorry I couldn't give you the life you wanted," Joseph told her. "But I won't apologize for trying to raise Nina the way I want to. I won't apologize for loving her and accepting her. Clearly, it seems we have different views on how to raise her. I won't stand any more of this. Nina deserves better than this. She doesn't deserve to be berated and yelled at all the time for something that isn't her fault, and by her own mother, no less."

Liz said nothing. Nothing at all. But her silence told him all he needed to know.

* * *

"So you divorced soon after," Detective Gottfried concluded. Liz's only response was a silent nod, her eyes having closed. "You never saw them again, did you?"

This time, Liz shook her head. Once again, she was silent. No words came out. Again, Detective Gottfried was unmoved.

"You moved to Flowerbud Village soon after that."

"Yes. I did. I couldn't make enough money to pay for the house," She explained, her voice still as cold and icy as it had been this entire time. "I had to move to the boonies. It was cheaper. I started my own flower shop and everything."

"Would you like some water?" Detective Gottfried asked. Neither he nor Liz knew how long they had spent in this interrogation room. Liz's stomach let out a very undignified roar, begging for food. However, she barely felt it nor noticed.

"No thanks."

Once again, there was a pause. It didn't take long for Detective Gottfried to restart the conversation. "Ann Murdock says that you and her father had become close."

"Yes," Liz replied, her voice unchanging. "Every month, he'd come in and buy flowers so he could put them on his wife's grave. Honestly, he was the only good thing about that backwoods village."

"You weren't happy there?"

Liz shook her head again.

She went on to explain that she spent twenty two years in Flowerbud Village, and she had grown tired of working as a florist in that dismal place. She had envisioned something more exciting for herself. As a child, she had big dreams. She had planned her future. She wanted to become a gardener or a landscaper, creating beautiful gardens that could easily win any garden show. Or maybe a famous actress, where she could go to the city, play big parts in movies, and become famous. Win Golden Globes or have her name on the Walk of Fame. Or if she couldn't do that, she could have been the stunningly beautiful wife of a wealthy, rich man, receiving breakfast in bed from a uniformed servant and going to lavish parties. But here she was, fifty-five years old, unmarried, and earthbound, seeing the same faces and hearing the same stories every single day. A boring routine, unchanging for decades.

Then, something changed. Liz had received a letter in the mail one spring, telling her that Joseph had died suddenly. Liz didn't shed any tears, not then, not now. But since she was close family, she was to take care of her then twenty-two year old daughter, Nina, whom she had not seen since Joseph took her away. At that, Liz was beside herself. Sure, the years she spent in Flowerbud Village weren't great, but at least she didn't have to deal with crying babies or screaming kids. But Nina was now going to be thrust onto her lap, and she couldn't do anything about it.

"I take it you expected that Nina would be exactly the same as she was when she was a baby," Detective Gottfried mused aloud. Based on everything Liz told him, he was sure she didn't take kindly to the news.

Again, Liz said nothing. But silence was it's own answer in and of itself.

* * *

The once childless widow now suddenly had her daughter back. She didn't expect to see Nina ever again. But the minute Nina came through the flower shop, Liz thought she had been dropped into another dimension. Her child had grown up. Clouds of beautifully curling rose pink hair, green eyes that were full of kindness and warmth, pinky white skin like tiny, freshly blooming apple blossoms, a soft, lovely voice...Nina had grown into a woman. A lovely young woman. For a brief moment, Liz thought she was seeing a carbon copy of herself. Herself from when she was younger, bright, naive, and full of dreams she wanted to fulfill.

But instead of feeling love, all she felt was a pang of venomous jealousy. Was this really Nina? It couldn't be! This woman couldn't possibly be the bratty, fussy baby who always screamed and drove her crazy. And yet, here she was, in tiny Flowerbud Village, the talk of the town. Even more surprising was that Nina always talked to Liz in a courteous, kind manner. Nothing like the screaming baby Liz remembered. Where had this woman come from?

"Mother? Would you like some help with the flowers?"

"I can take care of that for you, Mother. Don't worry."

"My roses won the contest! Isn't this wonderful, Mother?"

"Ellen tells me so much about her little dog. Mother, do you like animals?"

"The new farmer is such a gentleman. But I don't think he's really my type. I'd love to marry someone who appreciates flowers as much as I do. What do you think?"

Every day, Nina tried her hardest to make conversation with her mother, the mother she barely knew. But even she could feel that Liz didn't seem interested in anything she said. True, they had gone out sometimes, and Liz was always quick to greet everyone with a smile and a laugh. But she always saw the confused but suspicious look in Nina's eyes. Her big green eyes that always saw such a long way. Liz couldn't let anyone know that the two of them didn't get along at all. That she lived in constant fear that Nina was going to throw a tantrum over something, anything. There was no way that Nina could have changed so drastically over two decades.

"Mother?" One day, when Liz's back ached from having run so many errands the day before, Nina had taken time to prepare breakfast. It wasn't anything fancy. Just some light buttered toast, a banana, and a glass of milk. Nina came into her bedroom holding a silver tray, placing it on her mother's desk. "I made breakfast for you."

Liz could only hum in response. But she did get up and walk over to her desk. The food was fresh, and the bread was warm to the touch, having just come out of the toaster. Nina barely made it out of her mother's bedroom when raspy yelling suddenly froze the young girl in place. Her entire body trembled, and her shoulders immediately tensed right up. A hand flew to one of her ears.

"You made me toast?! Seriously?!" Liz yelled out of nowhere.

"Do...Do you hate toast?" Nina asked timidly, fear peppering her voice. "I-I-I-I'll make something else then. I'm sorry. I didn't know."

"Don't!" Liz yanked the toast off the table and shoved it into the nearest trash can. Right in front of a still fear-stricken Nina. "Ugh! You're too incompetent to know I despise toast!"

All of a sudden, Nina's shock suddenly morphed into anger. Nina glared at her mother before telling her, "I'm not incompetent! Nobody told me you hate toast, and I said I'm sorry!"

Unfortunately for her, that wasn't enough to alleviate the boiling anger in Liz's heart. Just looking at Nina, who stared at her with a strange, determined gleam in her eyes, made Liz's stomach tie itself into a knot. Without another word, Liz marched out the door with the tray in hand, leaving Nina alone in the bedroom.

One other day, Liz was out running errands, leaving Nina to mind the flower shop for a short while. She taught her the basic things, such as how to use a cash register, how to greet people, and how to count money, and Nina understood it right away. Truth be told, Liz didn't want to go out and run errands, but something inside her kept pestering her to get out of that shop. Get away from Nina. It had been three months since Nina moved in, and already the girl was getting on her last nerve, and Nina was hardly doing anything that would warrant such feelings. She couldn't help but wonder if Nina would do something like freak out over a beetle and mess up the flowers. Still, Liz persuaded herself to go run her errands. Nina was an adult, she told herself. Maybe she really grew out of her difficult phase from infancy. Maybe leaving her with Joseph did do some good for her. Perhaps...she was wrong about Nina being a burdensome child after all.

Any such thoughts immediately disappeared when Liz came back. Before she opened the door, she could hear the sound of women giggling inside the store. One of them was Nina's. The other voice belonged to Ellen, the woman who worked at the restaurant. Liz did like Ellen. She was a nice woman who always helped out at the restaurant and was very responsible. Liz couldn't help but think she'd be a good wife to a good man someday, should she ever get married. But when she opened the door, she found Ellen and Nina on their knees, marveling over a tiny puppy.

It was a small dog. White and fluffy, and barely the size of Nina's two hands combined. It kept squeaking and mewing and flapping its front paws. Both Ellen and Nina were cooing over the tiny pup.

"Awwww! Little Marshmallow is such a doll!" Nina cooed. "I wish I could adopt him, but I don't think Mother likes dogs."

"No, she doesn't," Ellen answered, brushing some brown strands of hair out from her eyes. "But my uncle's taking care of him right now. If you want, you can come and visit him when you're free."

"I definitely will!" Nina exclaimed. "Eeeek! Marshmallow's so cute!" All of a sudden, she began flapping her hands up and down. Ellen simply smiled at the sight, happy that her friend loved the little dog so much. Marshmallow paid her no mind either, happily curling up against Nina's knees.

Liz's mouth fell agape, and a look of shock overtook her. She looked like she had seen Nina do something she shouldn't have.

"Hello, girls!" Liz finally announced her presence as she walked into the flower shop.

"Hi, Mother!"

"Hi, Mrs. Bloom! I was just showing Nina one of our puppies!" Ellen scooped Marshmallow into her arms and stood up to meet the woman at eye level. "Sorry for the trouble."

"It's no trouble at all, dear," Liz told her. "We do need to get back to work now, though."

"Yeah, you're right. I better get back, too," Ellen was about to go through the door, but then she stopped and turned around. "Oh! Nina! I'm sure you'll win next week's flower show!"

Nina simply smiled back. With that out of the way, Ellen finally left. The two pink haired women were finally alone. This allowed Liz's fake smile to turn into a frown, and she found herself glaring at her daughter. Seeing that smile made her feel like she was being stabbed with a million knives. What was Nina so happy about? Was that smile mocking her? It didn't take long for Nina to notice that her mother looked quite grim, and all she could do was arch an eyebrow.

"Is...something wrong, Mother?" Nina asked meekly.

"Why did you do that thing with your hands earlier?"

"My hands?"

"Yes! You were flapping them!"

That? That was what she was angry about? Nina answered, "I always do it when I'm happy or excited. It just happens."

She had seen that gesture before. As an infant, Nina would flap her hands when she was happy. Joseph had seen it and made no attempt to put a stop to it. In fact, he encouraged it. Liz couldn't understand. It was a stupid, childish gesture. She was still doing it as an adult? "Don't do it anymore. It makes you look stupid. You need to act more like an adult and stop doing these childish things."

This time, it was Nina's turn to glare daggers at her mother. "Mother. It's not a big deal. Nobody minds, and it's not stupid or childish."

"Well I do!" She suddenly shouted. "Don't do this stuff in front of everyone! I don't want anyone knowing you're retarded!"

Nina didn't relent. She stood her ground, freezing her mother in place with a fierce, determined expression. "I'd appreciate it if you didn't call me that. Everyone already knows I'm autistic, and they still like me. They're fine with the way I am," Liz could see glimmers of tears at the corners of her daughter's eyes. But Nina didn't cry. She kept going. "Now I see why you and Father divorced. Do you really hate me that much? All because I'm not your idea of a perfect child?" Her breath hitched, and Liz could hear the sorrow in her voice.

"Don't give me that attitude-"

"I'm not perfect, and I never will be!" Nina exclaimed. "And I'm okay with that! Everyone else is, too! Why can't you love me for me?! You're my mother, right?! I don't understand! What did I ever do to you that was so bad?! What is it about me that you hate so much?!"

Liz had no answer to that last question. She was silent. The whole flower shop was silent. All Liz could think was that she was glad there weren't any customers around to see their little spat. Yes, she saw this as nothing more than a little spat, not Nina rightfully calling her out on her reprehensible behavior. Nina had hardly ever raised her voice before, especially towards her mother. Honestly, Liz found it just as stupid that Nina was raising her voice towards her mother at all.

She could see her daughter's hands trembling as she spoke. "I want a relationship with you...I want to spend time with you...we both love flowers, right?!" It didn't take long for her voice to drop to a solemn tone. "Why can't you accept me?"

Again, Liz was silent. Seeing that she wouldn't get an answer, Nina huffed and returned to her room, leaving Liz alone with her thoughts. The woman returned to the counter, back to work. Business was slow, so she had plenty of time to organize her thoughts. Still, Nina's last question kept lingering in her mind. Why couldn't Liz accept Nina for who she was? Liz was Nina's mother. How could Liz dislike her own child so? Liz couldn't fathom it herself. Months had passed since Nina came to live with her, and whenever she came up in conversation, everyone else had nothing to say but praise.

"Nina is always so nice to me," The mayor's daughter, Maria Churchill, had told Liz one day when she came to church. "When we shared stories about our late parents, Nina comforted me without hesitation. She said she was sure my mother was happily protecting me from heaven and that she was proud of me. I'm happy she lets me lean on her when I'm troubled."

"She's a good little lass," The popular bar waitress, Eve, said when Liz came in for a drink one night. "My boss really likes her flower arrangements. They always make the bar look so elegant. Guess you both have green thumbs."

The peddler had good things to say about her as well. "Nina Bloom? Yeah, I see her around. She buys a lot of my stuff. Sweet girl, I tell ya. Girls like her are hard to come by, and I got an autistic kid too. Maybe they could meet sometime. I bet they'd be mighty good friends."

Even the children had nice things to say about Nina. "She's pretty and nice," A little boy Nina had befriended, Jacob, had said. "She never picks on me, and she gives me flowers."

Normally, a mother would be overjoyed that the townspeople loved her daughter so much. They didn't mind that she was autistic. They didn't care about it too much. They liked her as she is. By all accounts, Liz should have been happy. But she wasn't. Instead, with every word of praise she heard, venomous pangs of jealousy shot through her every vein and artery. What made things worse was that she couldn't contradict them. She just had to smile and respond to their remarks politely. But as far as Liz was concerned, she didn't see what the big deal was.

It wasn't until Nina won the 35th annual flower show that Liz could finally put her resentment into words.

For Liz, that was the only thing she had to look forward to in Flowerbud Village. Being able to put her flowers on display for all the village to see. It wasn't like the competitions where high class people would allow winners the chance to aim higher or give them opportunities that ordinary people wouldn't receive, but it was still a way to make herself and her flowers known. This time, however, was different. A famous gardener was coming to this show. Whoever would win the flower show would go with her to pursue a professional gardening career. Liz could barely believe her ears. This was her chance to finally leave this dead end village and make something of herself.

Then she found out who else was entering.

"Nina?!" Liz suddenly shouted one day. "You're entering?!"

"...Yes," Nina replied, green eyes wide with naked fear. "I thought it'd be nice to put my flowers on display. I worked hard on them and...did everything you told me," It didn't take long for Nina's voice to stop shaking and grow calm. "I honestly don't expect to win, but let's give it our best."

There it was. Nina's signature, flowery smile, the one that everyone loved. Everyone except her mother, the one who should have loved it the most. _'Wipe that smile off your face! You're not taking this away from me! I'm going to win this contest! Why are you even entering?!'_ It didn't occur to her to actually ask that last question.

All sorts of terrible scenarios played through her mind. If Nina were to lose, Liz was sure she would break into some childish tantrum, scream and yell like crazy, and completely embarrass both herself and Liz in front of everyone. Then again, she hadn't spoken to Joseph in years, so she didn't understand that Nina knew better than to do that now, but Liz still assumed the worst regardless. She went through every day in a sort of dark haze. Looking at Nina was like looking at herself. Looking at what she could have been. At the person she might have become had she made different decisions. Still, she focused on her flowers, intent to win the flower show. There was no possible way Nina could win.

Fate had different ideas.

* * *

"Nina won the flower show," Detective Gottfried concluded.

Liz clenched her teeth. All of her anger was dying to come out. Unable to keep it in any longer, Liz let it all out. She still remained calm throughout her speech. Eerily calm. "That was when I realized it. Nina was everything I could have been and more. She was successful. She had the chance to fulfill her dreams. She got to be happy...and I couldn't do any of that!" Her breath hitched. "How could someone like her be successful?!"

Detective Gottfried adjusted his collar as he listened once more to the woman's ranting. "You hated the fact that your autistic daughter got to do everything you couldn't."

"Yes. Yes, I did," Liz finally confessed. Her voice was dripping with venom. There was no love. None at all.

"But you're her mother," The detective reminded her. "Mothers-parents celebrate their children's achievements and successes. It's a parent's duty to see that their child grows up to be happy and successful in whatever endeavors they pursue," He thought of his own children at that moment. His mind left no room for imagining awful scenarios where his children would suffer, be lost, and swallowed up in the depths of despair. He couldn't possibly imagine hating his children for giving them things he himself never got, and his own childhood wasn't exactly ideal, either.

"Of course you don't understand!" Liz suddenly barked. "I couldn't stand to even look at her! It's her fault I never got to do what I wanted! I've been nothing but trapped in that stupid shell of a town for twenty two years because of her! Look what she did to my figure!" She pointed to her hips.

The detective could only furrow his eyebrows. Was she serious? She admitted to hating her daughter, and now she was saying Nina wrecked not only her life but her body? All because she existed? Just what was this woman's problem? He knew the answers, but that didn't make much difference.

All of a sudden, it was Detective Gottfried who lost his temper. He slammed his fist on the table. "She was your daughter!"

"I never asked for a child! I'm only fifty-five and I've felt ragged beyond my years ever since I gave birth to her! She drained me dry long ago!"

"For something that wasn't her fault?! I've arrested parents who would die for their children and had to resort to crime just to provide for them! You should have been proud of her! If my child won a contest, I know I would have been! How could you even do-?!"

"She brought this on herself!" Liz roared. "If she wasn't retarded...if she had come out normal...if she wasn't such a bothersome little…!"

There was no justifying it. Liz could try all she wanted, but all of her justifications for Nina's murder didn't phase the detective one bit. All the man could think was: Nina didn't deserve to die. Not at all. None of this had to happen. Liz made the choice to kill her out of selfishness, greed, and jealousy. Detective Gottfried had no sympathy for this woman at all. If Liz was expecting to yank some out of him, or whoever else she confessed to, he wasn't going to give her any. Not in a million years. How could he possibly have pity for a woman who claimed that Nina was the one responsible for her own murder? Clearly, Liz was just making excuses to convince herself that committing such a horrible crime was justified.

"What did killing her do for you?" He finally asked, not once taking her eyes off her. "Did you really think killing Nina was going to give you what you wanted? Praise? Fame? Acknowledgement? Did you intend for the world to see you as a noble, kind hearted, overworked caregiver who had no choice but to kill her, and out of love, because you had it so rough? Better yet, was killing her really going to make your life better?"

For once, Liz couldn't find an answer. Her green eyes were trembling. She looked small, scared, and wretched.

"I think I get it now. Nina didn't fit your idea of an autistic person. To you, they're just babies in adult bodies who throw tantrums and are nothing but burdens," He made his voice cold as ice. "Nina didn't fit that image, did she? She was successful. She was kind. Everyone liked her. That farmer Pete even thought of asking her out on a date. She did everything for you. All she wanted was for you to love her and be proud of her. But every good thing she had going for her was like a knife through your heart, wasn't it?"

"Don't I have a right to be happy?!" Liz finally roared once more. Her green eyes went from being small and pathetic to burning with rage. "She had no right to take it away from me!"

"Oh, and killing her was going to get it back?" He barked right back at her. "Didn't you think about how frightened she was? Your daughter, scared out of her wits and running for her life? Running from her own mother, who butchered her with a knife and sliced her chest open?! Didn't you ever think about how Nina felt in her last few minutes of life?!"

The horrible scene played through her mind right then and there. Nina happily telling her mother that she was so happy to be able to fulfill her dream. Liz breaking into a violent rage. Liz chasing a screaming, terrified Nina through the house with a large knife. Nina throwing items at her in self-defense. A vase of flowers. Sneakers. Her favorite lace embroidered pinafore. Some pots and pans. Nina screaming, kicking, punching, clawing at her assailant, and defending herself with all her might, with everything she could. Cold steel slicing pale skin. Sheets of red spilling forth. Warm liquid on Liz's cheeks, tasting of iron. Spatters of blood. Nina pleading for her life. "NO! Mom! Stop it! Stop! Get off! Why?!" Another scream, but it was from a neighbor. Was it Ellen or one of the old ladies? Liz couldn't remember. Pink hair mingling with red, turning a deeper shade of crimson.

Life disappearing from Nina's eyes, tears mixing with the blood.

Even now, Nina's last words echoed in the now ex-mother's mind.

"Mom...why...why don't you love me…what did I...do wrong? Help me...Dad..." Her weak voice was overcome with shock at her mother's cruelty.

At that moment, Liz could do nothing but stare. Stare at the life she snuffed out. The life she bore into this world. Her stands were completely red.

Officers came into the interrogation room, escorting her to what would be her cell. Detective Gottfried stayed in the room. Tears escaped his eyelids, trickling down to his beard. Then, choked sobs escaped his throat. Another officer peeked inside, surprised at the sight.

"Wow. You alright, David?" He asked, bending over his friend with a concerned look. "She must have really got to you, didn't she?"

Detective Gottfried nodded. Finally, he could undo the lid he placed on his emotions. He was free to express himself, now that Liz was gone. "How could any parent justify killing their child? How? And why? And why would people even try to defend her actions?" In asking Ellen for her testimony, she mentioned that her father and a few others were on Liz's side, finding her actions completely understandable. That was something neither he, Ellen, and a few others who adored Nina, could fathom. "Are we really so corrupt as to sympathize and endorse something so awful?"

The young officer had no answer.

* * *

The trial was swift, and Liz was immediately convicted, being sentenced to twenty years in prison. To say that some of the villagers were outraged would be an understatement. Some of them thought Liz should receive the death penalty. Why should a woman who killed her own daughter be allowed to live? Others thought making her spend her life in jail would be a better, far more merciless choice. Wouldn't living with the burden of her crime be far more fitting? That in itself would be a fate worse than death, they reasoned. Liz would never live a normal life, and she would forever be branded as a child murderer. Other people thought Liz shouldn't be convicted at all, that it was understandable that she did what she did. Autistic people were hard to raise, some had said. Obviously, Liz must have been tired and overworked. Maybe she didn't receive proper support or resources. But how could she have received support when she hadn't seen her daughter in decades? And Nina was doing just fine before and after her father died.

To Ellen Durant, none of this changed the fact that Nina, her best friend, was dead. Nina, who did nothing wrong, who should never have died at all. Five years after the awful day, Ellen went to the woods to visit Nina's grave. She had some flowers in her hands, all tied together with a glittery pink and white ribbon. Pink carnations, meaning I'll never forget you. Chrysanthemums, which signified cheer, rest, and dearly beloved friendship. Purple hyacinths, signifying sorrow and apology. Apology for not being able to save her friend in her time of need. Nina had taught her about the language of flowers. Ellen wanted this bouquet to be special.

When she got to the grave, she stopped in her tracks. A single tombstone stood out in an ocean of beautiful flowers. Roses. Roses everywhere. Yellow, red, dark pink...A smile cut through Ellen's cheeks. This was perfect for Nina. She always loved flowers. Now, she was surrounded by them. Ellen gently placed the bouquet down, reading the etched in writing on the tombstone.

 _Nina Florinda Bloom_

 _April 20th 1998-May 7th 2020_

 _Beloved Friend, Daughter, and Lover of Flowers_

 _May You Dance Forever In Heaven's Garden_

"Hi Nina," Ellen greeted her with a wistful voice. "Your mother got released early from prison. Good behavior, they said," Her smile morphed into a choleric frown. "I don't know why the court let her out. She deserves to rot in prison. She moved right back into the village. I know. Stupid, right?"

The tombstone was silent. Of course. Slabs of stone can't talk. Ellen didn't mind. She was sure Nina was in heaven right now, listening and encouraging her to go on. Just like she did when she was alive.

"She's the most hated person in the village now," Ellen told her. "Nobody will buy her flowers anymore. I heard Faustino say that he stomped on some of her flowers right in front of her. He said he'd never spend his money on someone who would kill their child and still go on creating life regardless. Nobody even talks to her anymore. We won't let her visit you. She has no right to see you."

As far as Ellen was concerned, Liz had lost her right to call herself Nina's mother the minute she dared to even think about killing her. How anyone could kill their own child, especially over something that didn't need to be made into such a fuss, Ellen couldn't fathom, even now. Her heart ached for Nina. To hear her friendly laugh, to hold her soft hand and go on walks with her in the woods like they used to, to show her more cute dogs and cats that her uncle had raised. Nina had dreams she wanted to fulfill. To Ellen, Nina was just her friend. Her beloved friend who deserved so much, who could be a little naive, who often bit her nails when she was nervous, who sometimes tripped over her words when she talked a lot, who loved flowers and treated them like they were her own children, who Pete wanted to ask out on a date because he liked that she was honest and didn't try to be something that she wasn't, unlike other girls he knew.

But Nina was gone. All because Liz hated her very existence, all for petty reasons, to boot. Or could they even be classified as reasons at all?

Liz had said to Detective Gottfried that her life would have been better had Nina not been around. But after her release, Liz had nothing. She closed the flower shop, as nobody wanted to buy her flowers. She moved to a tiny apartment and worked odd jobs. Every chance they got, people would hurl insults at her, calling her a child murderer who should have stayed in prison to rot. No music companies wanted to hire someone who had a criminal record. Even her flowers didn't want to grow anymore. Any flower she tried to cultivate, it would die before they became shoots. People whom she had once been friends with wanted nothing to do with her now. There were days when Liz didn't speak to anyone.

Days of never ending loneliness gave her only her thoughts to ponder. Then the realization hit her.

No. Things _had_ been good when Nina was around. People at least talked to her then. People were friendly to her then. Now, nobody even wanted to look at her. Nina was nice, kind, friendly, nothing like the screaming baby Liz was convinced she would forever be. Nina had never been a burden. She had done nothing but good for her and Flowerbud Village.

Did she make the wrong choice in killing her flesh and blood after all?

Had she taken the time to love Nina...would things have turned out different? Could she have let herself be happy?

It was far too late to do anything about it now.

There was no hope anymore.


End file.
